Will Putin listen?
Siberia gulags glisten
Hysteria seeds myopia
Creeds..deeds feeds dystopia
Crimea bleeds...greed cornucopia
Impassioned stock shock rationed
Shepherd & flock fashioned
Russian roulette yet again
Ukraine disdain cam-pain
Vladimir fears
Scurrilous sneers
Mutinous jeers
Career nadirs
Dissident disappears
Old school kidology
Muscovite cruel mythology
Satellite strewn astrology
Fossil fuel fool geology
Ideology without apology
Bizarre highfalutin Tsar theology
Snarling Stalin’s darling anthology
A warped
zone
twisted &
unworthy of
grasping--
impossible to
escape.
No reward
No love
No answers.
Frantic fingers
scrape at the escape hatch
yearning to push the
EJECT button
(clinging to hope
for transmigration).
A glimpse into
dying
a flood of
deadly lies.
No winners
here
or there--
only
degenerating brains
in a neo-Roman Empire
where any-THING goes
& NO-body knows
anything.
The
grisly grass
crawls out of
the
Book of the Dumb
as
sighs of
solipsism
collide with
sneers of
narcissism
(& dirty rain
vilifies the
living dead).
The demigods
ejaculate
malevolent magma:
carving a brutal &
obvious fact
into timeless slime…
nobody
nobody
NOBODY
is
sane
Jesus was humble, a man betrayed by a friend
He knew he was a goner, yet he went easily
From a young age, he knew his place, as God’s son
There was mocking, but he did not react to it
Two others were on a cross that day, strangers
And yet, they were not strangers to his Father, right?
Jesus ignored the jeers and sneers, did not take them personally
This was the plan, he understood the reasons for his crucifixion
Yelling out “Forgive them Father, they know not what they do”.
You thought I was fragile, easy to bend,
But I’ve grown stronger with every dead end.
Through trials and heartache, I’ve learned how to fight,
A spirit unyielding, burning so bright.
I’ve faced every storm with courage in hand,
Built my foundation on unshaken sand.
You can throw your doubts, your shadows, your fears,
But I’ll rise above, despite all your sneers.
I’m not just a dreamer, I’m destined to soar,
Each step that I take opens new doors.
I’ve found in myself a power so true,
Unshakable strength to carry me through.
So say what you will, your words have no weight,
I shape my own story, I master my fate.
No chains can hold me, no storms make me fall,
I’ve found my own worth—I can conquer it all.
BY ANNA TAUVAA
The Monster is massive
with fangs and with claws
all lacquered and sharpened
sticking out from its jaws
The Monster is ghoulish
with deep, sunken eyes
it speaks whispers of wicked
and paranoid lies
The Monster is cruel
it sneers and it spits
always waiting for something
to tear into bits
The Monster is hidden
from inside its dark lair
just plotting and pacing
in the dank, musky air
The Monster is mournful
it wails and it weeps
for its heart has been broken
but the pieces it keeps
You know of the Monster
you've heard the tall tales
and despite what they say
no terror prevails
The Monster is cared for
and treated with grace
because the Monster writes poetry
from behind a fair face.
They play with my dreams
Laughing at the bursting seams
As everything falls apart
Painting with the blood from my heart
Covering walls with my feelings
As I lay there dying and reeling
They said open your heart to be free
Holding in the twisted smile I now see
There is no basement for how low
They will inevitably like to go
So draw back all of the curtains
Because misery is served for certain
And as my thoughts are bickering
The lights above are flickering
At least let me see the sunrise
Before my final demise
A lifetime of mistakes and aches
I couldn't quite find the brakes
So as my spirit finally breaks
Surrounded by callous fakes
I'm not the only one crying
As I'm laying here dying
But their crocodile tears
Are slanted by sensational sneers
They play with my dreams
Laughing at the bursting seams
As everything falls apart
Painting with the blood from my heart
It's so ironic to finally find fame
When the credits roll on this sad game
Because I have been defeated and deleted
My soul depleted and good intentions cheated
But my echoing cries
Are greeted by one last sunrise
In illusory water
A lone man row unending
Following all Life's master
Working his hand's unyielding.
Time's a river that ever flows
Began before beginning
Forever a lone man rows
Flowing long after the end
Unbending he never bows.
Downstream lies the cruel currents
Knowing the final moment
Death awaits a man's lament
Hopeless be a man who fears
Dead man be one who he peers
End is nigh yet the man sneers.
Time's a river that ever flows
The approaching end he knows
Yet the man still rows.
She chose to think his sweet talk lies were cute…
that things he said had value worth pursuit.
that substance would emerge, somewhat astute.
And while his words of love she wants to feel…
she ambles through their world hoping to heal.
She fears his selfish frost is hard as steel.
These past three years recalled with misty eyes…
he goads her daily even as she cries;
he begs excuse but sneers with compromise.
His conversation scars with bogus blame.
it mocks them both for trust has turned to shame;
it gags her voice, so silence is her game.
She made a promise, hoping that somehow
her mate would change. She’ll never break her vow.
In hushed greenhouses, a marvel grows,
A pilgrimage for those who know:
A rose unmarred by nature's thorns,
Its beauty is pure, as morning dawns.
I dreamed of its stem, a silken cord,
Coiled gently around my hands, unexplored.
My garden once bristled with spiky guards,
Till obsession smoothed those prickly shards.
From root to tip, I bred them bare,
Strength redefined in petals fair.
If thorns meant power, then power's changed,
In vulnerability, strength rearranged.
This thornless bloom, a rare delight,
Wields beauty like a beacon bright.
Its petals unfurl, a gentle shield,
Revealing truths long concealed.
When touched, it stands, unharmed and tall,
A flower-warrior, breaking thrall
From old beliefs of strength through pain,
Its peaceful stance is a greater gain.
In dreams, I graft this wonder's stem
To roses in my garden's hem.
Together we walk through skeptics' sneers,
Our smoothness calms ancient fears.
Behold the power of gentleness,
In this rose's thornless dress.
A testament to nature's art:
True strength blooms from an open heart.
Please don’t leave me hanging like that that, I hate to be in suspense, you piqued my curiosity and it’s so intense. Artfully teasing you know how to play, always one step ahead, leaving me dizzy and frayed, My head is spinning you think you’re winning, who’s got the last laugh? What’s all that ringing must be in my head, it’s giving carnival vibes, Clowns with balloons and daggers, cute little kittens with menacing eyes. Your destination, my fears, pulling me in and giving me sneers . What’s going on with the goat he just fainted, he stuck his tongue out and said blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah screamed and disintegrated, he looked kind of evil did I just use past tense? Is that mirror melting? What happened to his head? It’s so small and stuck to the bed. This ride is spinning down to the depths. I realize the ringing in my head is the alarm clock to wake me up. I turn over and face the clown in my bed. Oh geez, it’s just my lover Fred. What a tasty bit of drama, a midnight abracadabra.
“It’s not what they say when you are there, it’s what they whisper after you leave.” ~~ Actor - Errol Flynn ~~
Whispers as you hurriedly pass them by.
Whispers that can really make you cry.
Those whispers filled my head with doubt.
I didn’t realize what being poor was all about.
Whispers about the clothes that I wore.
Whispers as if it was a crime to be poor.
Rumors were rife in the school yard.
Those whispers really did make life hard.
Invited to parties, I didn’t want to go.
All snickering. Did they think I didn’t know?
I know bringing a gift of a potted plant wasn’t right.
Their whispers didn’t even wait till I was out of sight.
Whispers continued when I was a teen.
The rumors got worse the whispers were mean.
Slowly but surely, I overcame their sneers.
Learning to be proud of who I am over the years.
I met a man who loved me for who I am, I knew.
And how good it felt when he whispered, I love you.
Another dark day, and it drizzles
The most monotonius tune
All I have endured now fizzles
As soon as I’m leaving the room
Damp air makes a joke of my plan
Slushy pavement tell stories untold
In favour of wintery man
Who sneers from inside of my soul
Spring speaks sotto voce in dark day
Though I’m not excited with breeze
With mud and the damp, I will play
Spring’s little game that I seize.
Do not be envious of the water that waters another's yard
The grass is always greener, and a reason for their trivial mirth
Remember the green grows from dirt
We are all victims of light, Polaroid
2D snapshot moments, they are no full picture
You fret over paper-images developed in darkness
There is nothing too big about you
That doesn't already have a place in this world
Except maybe your heart, its heaven sent
Fear not their jeering gestures and taunting sneers
They have not known the depth of you
Theirs is cleverly veiled pain crying out for acceptance
Who wouldn't want the sun for a smile?
And the twinkle of stars in their eyes?
I crave the light you bring everyday
The pale blue hospital gown
won't tie up at the back.
From behind, my rearend
looks like a small Baluga whale,
peeping through a linin sky.
My soul is adhered to a point on my chest
where a tube feeds it one drip at a time.
3 days in, and I am well enough
to be truly sick.
The nurse, once caring and pretty,
has morphed into a hairy Pakistani guy
who sneers a lot.
What I need is a window seat,
a book of poems by Charles Baudelaire
and a tall glass of chardonnay.
What I have is a torture rack
that goes up and down,
but never moves anywhere.
My daydreams have become nightmares,
yet, and this is the crazy part,
I wake up each morning
with an ********.
I admire myself for a little while,
then the blood suckers arrive
to draw more blood
out of my depleted reservoir
of manliness.
Gladys almost always has evil on her mind
Life has not been kind
And she wants to take her grief out on others
When she sneers, you had better run
Because your life will not be any fun.
If you do not believe me, spend some time
In her presence and watch her mine….
All of the joy out of everything you say and do.
She is a frustrated hag,
And mean as the grim reaper too.
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